Page 33 of Bad Ball Hitter
When the threat subsides, I release her hair and grab a wet washcloth. “Here. Let’s get you back on the couch. Maybe start with some ice chips.”
She nods but then shakes her head. “I need a shower.”
I hesitate and scrub a hand over my face. The last thing I want is for her to pass out. “You’re awfully weak.”
“I stink.”
“Yeah, not going to argue.” That earns me a smack, followed by a groan—hers, not mine. That tiny hand couldn’t hurt a fly. “Come on, Tiger Cub. Let’s get you cleaned up.”
I help her off the floor. My palms meet her body, tracing every curve. Her skin is soft and delicate under my touch. My dick instantly gets the message, straining against my workout shorts. Fuck, that’s the last thing I need for her to notice. As soon as she’s steady, I create some distance but don’t leave.
“You’re not staying with me,” she says, shooing me away with her hands.
My grin turns wicked. “Still afraid of the Big Bad Wolf?”
“Never.”
Still defiant after all these years.
I chuckle. “Okay, if you think you can handle it, I’ll wait in the living room.”
“I’ll be fine.” She places her hand against the countertop, her silver necklace, which I bought, on full display. “Thanks so much, Drake.”
“Anytime, Lila,” I barely say past the thickness of my throat. She still wears the necklace after all of these years. What does that mean? Does she still hold on to a piece of me as I do her, even though she has moved on rather quickly?
I bolt through the door before I do something stupid like grab hold of her and reclaim what we once had. Because, if I’m honest, I want nothing more than to erase all the years of heartache between us. I want to tell her how I’ve wrestled with regret each day since our breakup. But I swallow those words, knowing they won’t help either of us. It’s too late.
Feeling the burn of unspoken words, I retreat to the kitchen, trying desperately to rid my mind of the woman behind the closed bathroom door. A confusing mix of guilt and longing battle within me. Why does it feel like I’m cheating on Miranda with Lila? It’s just a shower, damn it!
Once the water starts, I get to work on the kitchen disaster. Usually, I hate doing dishes, but not today. I need the distraction. I need to remember what Roy said to me years ago that made me break up with her in the first place and what I witnessed afterward that confirmed I made the right choice.
As the sink fills with water and turns into suds, my thoughts swirl into one giant, forgotten memory. I didn’t handle our breakup well, even though I initiated it. I was wrecked. But what happened afterward nearly destroyed me.
“Just pull up over there. It’s close enough to the tracks,” Mia said as she pulled up to the school parking lot. It might have been summer, but the outdoor track and field was always open. A week had passed since our breakup, and I needed to clear my head. I hoped running would do the trick since nothing else seemed to help.
The car idled as our gaze drifted to the couple sitting on the bleachers.
“What the hell?” The question was rhetorical because I’d recognize that blonde ponytail from anywhere. I’d had it wrapped around my fists enough times. But Lila wasn’t alone. My best friend, Roy, sat beside her, seemingly in deep conversation. My jaw ticked. He was sitting awfully close for just being her “friend.”
Neither of them looked toward the car. I stayed seated, barely breathing.
“Is that?—”
“My girlfriend?” I cut her off and growled, “Yeah.”
“Ex. She’s your ex-girlfriend.”
“Thanks for the reminder,” I said sharply. Mia didn’t flinch. She stared at the couple, who had zero clue we were watching.
Roy shifted closer, and Lila shook her head at whatever he said. But their conversation looked intimate, almost too comfortable. She laughed, not a full belly laugh, but whatever he said made her smile.
I wanted to be sick.
How could she sit next to him? Was I just a stepping-stone? Had she wanted Roy all this time? My hands clenched into fists.
“Drake, you broke up with her. Don’t do anything stupid.”
I brushed aside Mia’s warning as my heart clenched. This was my fault. I broke up so she could move on and be safe, but I hadn’t expected it to be so quickly and with my supposed best friend.